New Life!

So, in other news, I’m pregnant! And I’ve been absolutely silent on the ‘ol blog lately because, obviously, I’ve been shamelessly delving into pregnancy and enjoying every second! Alas, the time has come, the guilt has settled in…for the time is nigh to keep my thousands and thousands of adoring blog fans updated on the ins and outs of my personal life.

This is all documented (by hand, *gasp*!) in my journal, so I feel no need to go into extreme depth here…to save my fingers and your eyes. All I will say is this, and this is the short version. You’re welcome…

I knew going to bed on Saturday July 20 that I would wake up on Sunday July 21 and either find out I was pregnant or face a month of surly moodiness and fighting unnecessary and unwarranted fears of infertility. I “slept” horribly that night, waking up every couple of hours, wondering if it was time to take my temperature.

Finally, around 3am I took my temperature. While the thermometer was reading, my heart was racing. I had to force myself to take deep breaths and not bite down on the stick. It beeped twice and I turned on my reading light. Above cover line. Knowing I needed to take a pregnancy test to confirm, I thought I’d wait until morning…that thought did not last long.

I gave up and snuck out of bed and into the bathroom, where an unforgivingly loud foil wrapped pregnancy test was awaiting me. (Side note: this was my little journey with God and my oldest sister to this point, so my husband slept naïve and peacefully on the other side of the door whilst I ever so gently coaxed that foil wrapped off the stick.)

I peed. I looked away. I waited. I prayed. I cried. I thanked God in advance, recklessly choosing to “believe that you have already received it. Then it will be yours.” (Mark 11:24)

I looked. It was there. Two little lines. (Gosh, reliving it is making me almost sob.) I couldn’t believe it. I stood in front of the mirror, in my plaid pajama pants and purple tank top, holding the test, looking at my reflection and kept repeating, “I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant.” I said it so many times…I said it happily and then nervously and then excitedly and then incredulously. I literally couldn’t believe it. To this point in my life, nothing has taken longer to sink in than this experience.

I went back to bed and daydreamed about my pregnancy. Where we would be when I was how far along. I’ll be maybe just showing when we go to our trip to Nashville. I’ll be almost 20 weeks at Thanksgiving, when we’ll find out if it’s a boy or girl. I’ll be about six months at Christmas. It will be a new spring with warm days and blossoming trees when we have our baby. The beautiful, perfect timing of how I’d always dreamed it would play out washed over and overwhelmed me.

God is so good.

He not only blessed us beyond measure by an easy conception and so far uneventful and wonderful pregnancy, but the extra blessings that were beyond my hopes and dreams have humbled me to tears.

I was unexpectedly able to get an early ultrasound at 8 weeks and see my baby’s unbelievably rapid heart. I was able to tell my parents and my sister I was pregnant in person. Dan’s 30^th birthday present will come in the form of a beautiful, pooping, screaming thing. I can’t even explain how awed I am that God not only answered my prayers, but answered them in the time and way I requested.

I deserve nothing, but have been given so much.

This is important, so read it:

In the weeks leading up to realizing I may be pregnant, I prayed over Mark 5 – the story of the suffering woman who touched the robe of Jesus and was healed. My sister shared a blog post by Ann Voskamp about this story (read it NOW) and I knew God was speaking directly to me. The woman who touched Jesus…she had no doubt in her mind that she would be healed. She didn’t think to herself, Well, let’s see if this’ll work… No. She knew. And Jesus said to her, “Your faith has healed you.” Not “I have healed you” but “YOUR FAITH has healed you.” And all year, as I worried about being able to conceive, I had no faith. And this was screaming in my face something I’d known but has been fighting – to become pregnant, I had to believe I would. And that sounds so simple, but for me, it seemed like an insurmountable obstacle. Part of Ann Voskamp’s blog post says, “It is right and good to pray for faith. Then it’s time to move. Stretch out our hands. That’s when miracles happen.” All year I had been praying for faith. And I knew in my heart, that it was time. Time to stop praying for faith and time to move, stretch out my hands and trust whole-heartedly and unshakingly that God would show me a miracle.

That’s when I wrote this in my journal:

“On the way home from work today it was humid and hot. And huge, white thunder heads were billowing into the sky from the horizon, out of nowhere. They were giant and brilliant and endless and overwhelming. And I just prayed. I thanked God for who He is and what He’s doing in me and how He is endlessly patient with me. For how His promises are true and that He loves me enough to teach me faith, even though He sees that it’s painful and that I hurt. I pulled off of 131 onto 142^nd Street and through the clouds, there were massive rays of sunlight, pouring down to earth. And I just stared at it and had such a sense of peace and euphoria and hope and trust. Trust that God would bless me and Dan with a baby of our own. It felt like God was pleased and smiling at me and saying, ‘I know you’re scared, but I’m telling you to hope.’ And it was beautiful and I cried and felt a sincere presence of God. I’m scared to hope, but I feel like He told me to, so I will. This morning I read this excerpt in Jesus Calling:

               
 All I require of you is to take the next step, clinging to My hand for strength and direction. Though the path is difficult and the scenery dull at the moment, there are sparkling surprises just around the bend.”

Since the day I wrote that journal entry, I never looked back.

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At both 8 and 12 weeks we have seen (8 weeks) and heard (12 weeks) a strong, healthy heartbeat. My 16 week appointment is tomorrow, where I have full confidence I’ll hear that racing heart again.

Baby's heartbeat, 178 beats per minute

Our gummy bear :) Head to the lower left, leg buds on the upper right

The 'lil one is growing...I promise, it's not ALL chub :)